The second was the dearth of available information on the financial interests behind the Valle delle Viti development. It looked to Kaye to be almost a purposely constructed shield. He realized it could be for any one of various legitimate reasons, such as a liability defense or a tax strategy, but he had neither the information nor the financial acumen to figure it out.
But he knew somebody who did.
Thirty minutes later he walked into the FBI field office in the Federal Building at Wilshire and Veteran.
“Agent Iwamura, please,” he said to the receptionist, holding up his badge wallet.
She called back to see if Iwamura was available, then told him to wait.
Special Agent Kai Iwamura had helped Kaye and Kaye’s then-partner Greg Senske unravel the financial miasma at the bottom of the Birnbaum murder case just months ago. Iwamura had gotten himself in hot water for helping.
The door to the secure area opened and Iwamura stepped out.
“Ben, great to see you! Come on back. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need your expertise, Kai,” Kaye said as he walked around Iwamura and through the door. “That is, if after listening you decide you can help.”
“Uh-oh,” Iwamura said, then laughed as they headed for his office.
“Not this time,” Kaye said after they both sat down. “I’m working a local homicide, but this time there are no spies or diplomats involved,” he paused, then added, “at least not yet. I just need to pick your business brain for a minute.”
“Ask away.”
Kaye gave Iwamura the basic background on the Geller case, how he’d come across Geller’s investment in Valle delle Viti, and that there was just something about it that bothered him.
He related his efforts to track down the resort’s backers to make sure Geller wasn’t the victim of a massive fraud, then murdered to keep him quiet, but that he’d run into a dead end with the Italian SRL company and didn’t know how to get around it.
“I’ll be glad to help,” Iwamura said. “I don’t have legal reach in Europe, but I have a friend there who might be able to help. I’ll call and ask her to look into it. I might not be able to reach her until Monday, if that’s okay.”
“Not a problem,” Kaye said. “I really appreciate it, Kai.”
“Anything else?”
“Have you heard anything about the guy who burned up in his new Ferrari up on Mulholland?”
“Only what I read in the paper,” Iwamura said. “Why?”
“I’m looking into it, and I think it might not have been an accident. I also found out the driver was ex-Delta Forces Command made good.”
“Good enough to buy a Ferrari?”
“Apparently so,” Kaye said. “Anyway, the people I talked to at his company said there were probably a lot of terrorists celebrating the guy’s death. I told my Captain that and he said he was going to make some calls. I was curious if you’d heard anything.”
“I have not,” Iwamura said. “But he might have called my boss. Given the guy’s background, it might be something we want to look at. Who are we talking about?”
“His name was Leigh Howell. Went by Rod. He was the head of an outfit called Black Scimitar.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Iwamura said. “Real up-and-comers, but there have been some rumors lately.”
“Hadn’t heard that,” Kaye said. “Anyway, if it wasn’t a terrorist hit, and I was you, I’d probably start by looking into their stock IPO last year. Made a lot of people rich.”
“Rich enough to buy Ferraris, apparently. You think there might have been a financial motive?”
“Worth looking at, I think.”
“Okay,” Iwamura said. “I’ll make some inquiries and pass the word. What’s the best way to reach you?”
“Just call my cell.”
***
Banished from the Station until the odds of running into Sloan and Leale diminished, Kaye had to concentrate on things he could do over the phone.
His next call was to Patty. He first gave her his new number, then asked her to run Dennis Bettencourt through the system.
“Okay,” she said after a moment. “I’ve got a Dennis R. Bettencourt,” she read off the particulars. “Last known address in the Venice area. Two priors for misdemeanor assault and one for domestic battery. Most recent, the domestic battery, was about three years ago. Found guilty on the domestic battery, paid the fine, got probation and cleared it, and hasn’t been heard from since. At least by us. Sounds like the kid finally grew up.”
“Does the record list the domestic battery victim’s name?”
“Not on this page, but stand by.”
Kaye again heard the magic sounds of Patty’s fingers on a keyboard and waited.
“Got it,” she said. “According to the arrest report the victim was his wife, Caroline Bettencourt. Oh, and it says here she didn’t want to press charges, but had visible injuries so the officers hooked Dennis anyway. But that’s probably why he got probation.”
“What’s the address on the report?” Kaye asked. “Is it the Venice address?”
“Uh, no,” Patty said. “Santa Monica.”
“Probably means he and Caroline split after the arrest, right?”
“That’d be my guess, too, Detective.”
“Can you pull up his license and see if it has a Venice address?” Kaye asked.
She read off the last known in Venice a few seconds later.
“Can you do one more thing for me?”
Patty laughed. “Detective, that’s my job. What do you need?”
“I need a photo line-up that has Megan Sullivan and a woman named Lisa Riley in it, along with four other comparators. You know how this works. I’ll send you a picture of Riley.”
“I can do that,” Patty said. “How soon do you need it?”
“Whenever you can get to it is fine.”
“I’ll try to have it on your desk by Tuesday morning.”
“Thanks, Patty,” Kaye said. “Now, can you transfer me to the Watch Commander?”
“Sure. Have a great weekend.”
Ten seconds later he was talking to Lieutenant Crenshaw.
“What’s up, Kaye?”
“Lieutenant, can you go into the system and look at the call log for Tuesday, ten days ago, and find a vandalism call in Paloma Canyon? Should be around eighteen hundred hours, give or take. RP’s name will be Megan Sullivan. I need to know who handled the call.”
“Sure,” Crenshaw said, and Kaye could hear him working his keyboard, a lot slower than Patty. “This about the Geller case and the bimbo he was with?”
“It is.”
“All right,” Crenshaw said. “That call was handled by Officer Devon.”
“No partner?”
“Not that night. We were thin.”
“When does Devon work next?” Kaye asked.
“Actually, it’s your lucky day,” Crenshaw said, “He’s on duty now, and I think I just saw him walk by.”
“I need to talk to him,” Kaye said. “Can you page him for me?”
“Hang on.”
Kaye heard Crenshaw page Devon to his office on the overhead P.A. system and a moment later he heard the Lieutenant say, “It’s Kaye. He wants to talk to you about a call. Take it over there.”
There were two louds clicks before Kaye heard, “This is Officer Devon. What can I do for you, Detective Kaye?”
“You took a vandalism call in Paloma Canyon last week, Tuesday, early evening?”
“I did,” Devon confirmed.
“What can you tell me about it?”
“Uh, let’s see,” Devon said slowly, and Kaye visualized Devon grabbing his own set of paper brains. “Okay, RP’s name was Sullivan, first name Megan. The house was furnished but nobody living in it. She’s the listing realtor.”
“How much damage was there?” Kaye asked.
“Some of the walls were spray painted, books pulled off bookcases, a few broken items, a cou
ple of lamps, but not that bad. Kids, probably. She insisted there was thirty grand in damages, but, honestly, I didn’t see it.”
“Must’ve been expensive lamps.” Kaye said. “Tiffany’s maybe.”
“No shit.” Devon laughed.
“Did you take pictures?”
“I did. They’re in the system,” Devon said, then gave Kaye the report number.
“Did she show up with anybody else?” Kaye asked.
“Can’t say for sure. She got there first, and it looked like she had waited outside, but I don’t know that for sure, either.”
“So you didn’t see anyone else?”
“No, sir,” Devon replied. “But I didn’t go upstairs.”
“Why not?”
“Sullivan told me she’d checked the house and the vandalism was limited to the main living spaces on the ground floor.”
“Did she say anything about the security system being tampered with?”
“No.”
“Any sign of forced entry?”
“No,” Devon said, then paused momentarily before adding, “I did find an unsecured gate in the back yard, but I have to admit I have no clue how the little shits got into that house. It was like they had keys and the codes.”
“Did you ask Sullivan about that?”
“I did. She gave me a bullshit answer about one of the realtors that showed the house forgetting to turn the security system back on. In my opinion, Detective, she was less than forthcoming. I think the call was just to cover her ass with the insurance company. I doubt she even notified the owners.”
“Did she happen to mention that she’d talked to me on the phone about an hour before you got the call?” Kaye asked.
“She did not,” Devon replied.
“Okay, thanks Officer Devon,” Kaye said and ended the call.
He checked the time. If Sloan and Leale had wanted his phone to bolster Sullivan’s application for a restraining order today, they’d long missed their time window.
He suddenly remembered he needed to send Riley’s picture to Patty and went to the Photos folder on his phone. It was empty.
“Well, crap,” he muttered, reaching into his pocket for his old phone. A minute later he’d sent the photo.
***
Kaye walked into the Squad room and headed directly for Thompson’s office.
The door was open. Thompson saw him coming and waved him in.
“Did you bring your old phone?” the Captain asked.
“I did.” Kaye reached into this pocket and extracted the old phone.
Thompson instantly scooped it up.
“Thank you,” he said. “I told the judge I would keep this.”
“The judge?”
“ADA Okafor and Judge Gardner called me from chambers before Sullivan’s hearing. Gardner wanted to make sure I knew about what was going on and you weren’t just bullshitting Okafor.”
“Is she convinced?”
“The judge, you mean? Not totally. She said she’d hold Sullivan’s order, but only temporarily, and said she’d pay close attention to what happens.”
“Good to know,” Kaye said.
“Just stay away from the Sullivan woman until she steps in it, okay?”
“I’ll try, but no promises.”
“Then at least notify me before you attempt or make any kind of contact at all with her so I can cover your ass,” Thompson said. “Got anything for me on the Ferrari case?”
“I met with Kai Iwamura a while ago. I mentioned it to him.”
“I haven’t called over there yet. I guess I should. You stay on the Geller case for now.”
“I can do that,” Kaye said. “I’m making progress.” He got up to leave.
“Oh, and Kaye?”
“Sir?”
“You do know that if your new number shows up on Sullivan’s call history on Monday, you’re history, right?”
Kaye stared at his boss.
“Gee, Captain, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
***
Kaye practiced for an hour out on the patio, doing some especially brutal strength and balance moves to take his mind off Thompson’s well-intentioned but insulting warning about Megan Sullivan and his new phone number.
He had no doubt that Sullivan was hiding something, and was obviously willing to go to great lengths to deflect his investigation.
But why?
He had nothing that connected her to Avi Geller or Nicole Ingram, and, at least that he knew of yet, she had nothing to gain from the death of either one.
Maybe there was something going on in her life she didn’t want the police to know about? Even if it had nothing to do with the murders. His gut told him he needed to know a lot more about Megan Sullivan.
He also needed to find and talk to Dennis Bettencourt and Ruthie, Nicole’s neighbor.
He finished exercising, grabbed a bottle of water and sat on the patio gazing out to sea, wondering if he needed to work Saturday.
Or if he needed to ask Thompson for a partner. He chuckled. That would probably create a Captaincy promotional opportunity due to heart attack. But the details were adding up and they all needed to be checked out.
He laughed out loud. Partner? Seriously?
After cooling off he decided to meditate before grabbing dinner. After all, as Roshi often reminded him, exactly zero percent of those who do not actively seek enlightenment ever achieve it.
The evening was mild, so he decided to sit outside.
For Kaye, meditation had always been an ‘either/or’ experience. He knew when he was having a second-rate session while he was having it, but he didn’t know he was having a first-rate session until it was over. There was, for him, no point of recognition or anticipation ahead of time and no sense of time passing.
He moved a cushion to the ground, assumed his posture, focused on Roshi’s instructions for shikantazi and slowly surrendered his mind to his surroundings.
At one point he had a stray thought that the session was going well, which he knew meant it wasn’t, really.
He gathered himself, focused, and felt a gentle wave of calm wash over him.
It didn’t last long.
He suddenly heard a woman’s voice, as if she was standing right behind him, say, “Beware the beauty of the falling sun.”
Startled, Kaye spun and looked behind him. He was alone on the patio.
He realized he was sweating profusely. What the hell?
He knew that hearing voices was a symptom of psychosis. He’d seen it a lot in suspects over the years.
But he’d never shared the experience. Until now.
He moved to the edge of a chair and tried to rationalize what had just happened. Were the notes getting to him? He didn’t even know yet what the two he’d found on the bike this week said.
The only conclusion he came up with was that Roshi’s question had somehow subconsciously affected him, making him vulnerable to the power of suggestion.
It was time to go see Roshi again, and get the recent notes translated.
That, or call a psychiatrist.
DAY 13
Saturday Week 2
Unnerved by the experience of hearing the voice, Kaye slept fitfully, worried that if he fell hard asleep the voice would come to him in his dreams. Or nightmares. It was late before he forced himself to get out of bed and go about his day.
He didn’t practice, but after breakfast he took his new phone out to the patio.
“Hello.”
“Hi. Mom,” Kaye said.
“Benjamin?”
“It’s me,” Kaye said. “I called to give you my new number.”
“No wonder your name wasn’t on the Caller ID.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, but I just got it yesterday afternoon,” he said.
“Did your old phone break?” she asked. “You know you can keep the old number with a new phone, right? They just change out that little card thing.”
“It wasn’t about a new phon
e, Mom. It was about a new number.”
There was a moment of silence.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m back to work.”
“At the police department?” she said. “I thought you decided to give that up.”
“Well,” he said, “turns out it wasn’t as easy as that.”
She laughed and said, “I’m not surprised. If ever I knew anybody who was doing the job God intended for them, it’s you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“So, tell me why you needed a new phone number.”
He gave her a quick summary of recent happenings, didn’t mention murders, and focused on the fact that the woman making the complaint was wrong.
“Are you sure you’re okay, son?” she asked. “Honestly, you sound a little…off. You’re not sick, are you?”
“No, just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.” He changed the subject. “So, how do you like the new place?”
She had planned on selling the family home after the death of Kaye’s father, but after taking some time to think about it, she had deeded the house over to Kaye’s sister and her family and moved into a condo not far away.
“I like it,” she said. “Not nearly as much upkeep, which is nice, and I’m still close to everyone.”
“Everybody’s okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Just busy. You know how it is.”
“I do,” he said. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’ve got some errands to run, so I’ll let you go. I just wanted to make sure you had the right phone number.”
“Thank you, Benjamin,” she said. “I’ll edit your Contact form.” She laughed, then said, “Listen to me! I’m becoming quite the tech expert!”
“Tell everyone I said hello.”
“Will do. And Benjamin?”
“Yeah?”
“If you don’t feel good, you go to the doctor, okay? I know you’re practically Superman, at least on the outside, but please take care of yourself.”
“Will do, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Kaye looked at his phone. How do they always know?
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